


All or Nothing at All

by lionessliv, YoureNotMySupervisor



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: But it's sweet, Cole is his usual self, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Crush at First Sight, Detective Noir, Detectives, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, LAPD, Murder, Organized Crime, Police, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Song Fanfic, Song Lyrics, Stefan is the sweetest person in the whole world, and he'll get all the credit for this, and maybe i'll manage to write some smut, based on frank sinatra songs, but mostly - Freeform, constantly thinking about the other, it will be so fluffy, it's the 40s, noir fiction, to the point that it's really embarrassing, traffic desk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessliv/pseuds/lionessliv, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoureNotMySupervisor/pseuds/YoureNotMySupervisor
Summary: As Elsie Hawley makes her way to Central Police Station, she only wants to find someone who will compensate for her father's pick-up truck that got crashed in an illegal street race. What she doesn't expect is running into Stefan Bekowsky - and finding herself unable to get him off her mind afterwards. What started out as purely business soon becomes very, very personal and both Stefan and Elsie find themselves thrown into something, they've never experienced before. A romance that is both exciting and scary, new and frightening - but will it last in the crime-torn, up and coming city of opposites that is Los Angeles?
Relationships: Stefan Bekowsky & Cole Phelps, Stefan Bekowsky/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Everything Happens to Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a song fic - title and first quotes are taken from Frank Sinatra songs that were already out in 1947, when this fic takes place. 
> 
> It is set after 'The Consul's Car' and before 'A Marriage Made in Heaven'.
> 
> This is my first L.A. Noire fic and it would not have been possible to publish any of this without my wonderful BETA, YoureNotMySupervisor (and that's why she'll be listed as a co-creator and you should definitely check out her fic 'How Can I Help, Detective?' - it's amazing and inspired me to write this)! I'm so excited to share the story of Stefan and Elsie with you and hope you'll like it! Please share your thoughts, comments and ideas for improvement with me - I'm always looking forward to learning something new!

> Black cat's creeper cross my path, until I'm almost mad. I must've brought the devil's wrath cuz' all my luck is bad I make a date for golf, and you can bet your life it rains. I guess I'll go through life, just catching colds and missing trains. Everything happens to me...

Yesterday, Elsie Hawley had had the worst day since... well... practically forever. It had started out great though - another sunny day in the City of Angels, but then it had gone downhill quickly. First she had found out that she had been _let go_ from her job as a shoe salesperson.

Alright, truth be told, it was not the job she had imagined for herself as a little girl, but it had at least been something! She had been working at this job for nearly a year and it had paid well which was the main reason she had dragged herself out of bed every morning. But now? What was she supposed to do now?

But of course when a day had started out like this, things could have only gotten worse from there. And, surprisingly, being fired wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to her that day.

After deciding that spending money on things like bus tickets was irresponsible now, Elsie had chosen to walk home, but just as she had gotten started her heel had broken off, which had delayed her even more. From there on she had walked barefoot, cursing under her breath all the way. The sun shining down on her as if nothing bad had happened that day had only enraged her further. Carrying her shoes in her hands and ruining her stockings, she had slowly made her way to her apartment.

As she had thought that her long and frustrating journey had ended as she opened her apartment door, she had found her father sitting on the sofa pressing a bloodied towel to his forehead.

Well, just when she had thought that things couldn’t get any worse...

After he had told her his story, she had changed the label of her day from ‘awful’ to ‘disaster’. Really, there was only so much a girl could take for one day and so, after having a late night drink with her father, she had gone to bed exhausted but unable to sleep until very late in the night due to the thoughts running around in her head and her aching feet.

While laying awake, a song had come to her mind, one of her dad’s older records. It wasn’t the happiest song but the sentiment of going through life and messing everything up, _everything happens to me_ , had really resonated with her that night. Playing the song over and over in her head and worrying about what to do for half the night, she had slept poorly.

But this morning, an article in the paper sparked an idea in her and had set her course for her day. She got dressed making an effort to appear as flawless as usual, although it was much harder today with the choices that were available to her. Soon after, she made her way to the city - or rather - Central Police Station, hoping to find a solution, but if she couldn’t find one, she would at least find someone to let her steam off on.

\---

Stefan Bekowsky had had nothing but a fantastic day so far. The sun was out as usual and yesterday he and his partner Cole Phelps had won an illegal street race. Well, technically they hadn’t won it, they had stopped it, but he didn’t let Cole’s practical view on life rob him of his victory. On top of that, they had stopped another street gang, unmasked a high official of the Argentinian government as a pedophile and a fruit, and they managed to do all that with as little damage to civilians and city property as possible.

Heck, when he thought about it, Cole only crashed one car and it wasn’t even their own! Stefan really liked his Buick Super and always tried to drive himself, but yesterday Cole was behind the wheel. Cole’s reputation of being a good cop was great and all, but he was a horrible driver.

Yes, today was a good day. Bekowsky laced his fingers behind his head, closing his eyes for a second and enjoyed the sun. Sure, there was paperwork to do, there always was, but that could wait. The Captain had no new assignments for him and Cole yet, and of course Phelps was already halfway through his report, but he couldn’t care less. He wouldn’t have his day ruined by some reports. He intended to keep his good day intact.

That was only until a policeman from downstairs stopped in front of his desk looking rather distressed.

“Bekowsky, there’s a broad having a fit down there, and demanding to speak with someone who was involved in the street race yesterday. Wouldn’t let me send her away so you better make your way downstairs before she tears this place down.” It was Henry Clark. Good guy, good cop.

That, of course, could ruin his day quite a bit. He looked at Cole who simply raised his fountain pen. “Sorry, I’m obviously busy,” he said, shrugging.

“Yeah, screw you,” Stefan replied. He saw Cole chuckling but then again, it did him right to get chosen for a job like this. If a broad was making trouble, he would have called himself for help too.

Tall, dark hair, always a bit of a frown gracing his face, Stefan _did_ look good - that much was true. And up until now there never had been a woman he couldn’t handle. With a sigh, the detective rose from his desk and slowly made his way downstairs.

As he arrived, his blue eyes scanned the situation pretty quickly. Right in front of the booking window, he saw a woman wearing a green dress and… _red_ shoes? Alright, truth be told, fashion had never been his forté, but if he remembered correctly, these two colours weren’t compatible at all, right?

Letting his gaze wander up her dress, he found long, dark brown curls under a white headband, and a pretty face with pouty red lips and gray eyes that looked at the duty sergeant exhaustedly.

“He will be here any second now, miss,” the officer said wearily. As he saw Bekowsky coming downstairs, he exhaled audibly, gesturing towards him. “See, there he is. Good day now, miss.” But she didn’t hear him anymore. As soon as the woman had seen Bekowsky, she had turned her attention towards him, coming at him directly.

“How can I help you, miss…?” An amused smile played along his lips as she stopped right in front of him. She was not very tall - nearly one head shorter than he was. And she was already wearing pumps! But the way this broad stood her ground in front of him looking him directly in the eye? She was someone to be reckoned with.

“Hawley, Elsie Hawley.”

“Miss Hawley, I’m Detective Stefan Bekowsky. What can I do for you?”

His eyes lingered on her face for a while and he had to be honest - she looked stunning. Of course, he always knew a pretty broad when he saw one, but this one? He was glad Clark had called for him and not Phelps.

“I would very much like to know who will compensate for my father’s ruined car. It was hit and immensely damaged in yesterday’s street race downtown. A street race, I might say, that never should have happened in the first place,” she said, frustrated.

Bekowsky blinked, perplexed. Well, this was something new. “Excuse… me?” he asked, taking a small step back before he remembered who, and especially where, he was, planting his feet firmly on the ground again. This was his station and his playground, he wouldn’t let a pertly broad push him around. “I am not sure I’m the right fella to talk to about this, Miss Hawley,” he said, furrowing his brows.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t care about that. It was your name in the papers. Yours and that Phelps figure,” she said dismissively. Did she just insult Cole Phelps? A smile crept on Stefan’s lips. Although he tried to still look stern, he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. This one seemed to have some fire!

“But believe me.” she continued, “I will find someone who is the right guy, because without this car, the LAPD might as well have put me and my father on the streets.”

Raising his eyebrows a bit higher, Stefan looked at her. Sure, these things happened all the time - especially when Cole was driving. Cars got damaged, people got scared when they drifted around corners without sounding the siren, but usually people never complained. At least not to him!

But the girl really looked upset. Although her pretty face was plastered with worry, she really tried to hold up her facade of confidence. She kneaded her hands in her lace gloves, while her right foot tapped the floor restlessly. She really did seem in trouble.

And who was he not to help a damsel in distress?

“Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else, Miss Hawley?” Stefan offered. His eyes were on a crowd behind her that was staring at them curiously. Half the department would pester him about this in no time at all, but he just quickly shook his head to get his thoughts in order before he looked at her again.

And damn, if she wasn’t pretty. Her whole demeanour had changed. Her eyes had lit up with hope and she nodded, her brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. Her foot had even stopped tapping. “Lead the way, Detective Bekowsky,” she said, brightly.

His first thought had been to take an interrogation room, but he had quickly thrown that idea to the wind. If they were interrupted by a beat cop bringing in a suspect for another case, it wouldn’t help the situation much, and it might distress Miss Hawley even more. So instead, he made his way upstairs, drawing even more suspicious looks onto him than before.

He turned right - Miss Hawley on his heels - and held open the door to the briefing room for her. It was empty. Most detectives were either at their desks or on the road, so he gestured for her to take a seat.

“Alright now, tell me what happened, Miss Hawley.”

While sitting down, she had straightened her dress to occupy her hands. As she sat, she folded them in her lap and looked at him. “My father is a carpenter, you see, and he drives his pick-up to work every day. He works for Paramount Studios...builds sets and furniture for the pictures. He was running errands yesterday, and when he was on his way home last night, he apparently got in the way of _your_ street race.”

 _His_ street race? _His!?_ That feisty little- Alright, pull yourself together, Stefan. This one obviously had the wrong ideas about how street races worked and how much effort it took to end them, let alone stop the organisation of them. But alright, she may get a pass on this one... because she’s so distressed... and so pretty.

“Well, sorry to hear that Miss Hawley, but how am I supposed to help here?” Stefan asked, and leaned against another desk, crossing his arms.

“You see,” she started, taking a deep breath, “The car is complete trash now. One of the cars that was pushed off the road by you and your partner crashed into my dad’s pick-up and now we… we simply don’t have a car anymore. My dad can’t transport the lumber around, let alone get to work on time. Grocery shopping will be so much harder. I just lost my job yesterday, my father got injured in the accident, and I don’t know how to support us when neither of us is able to earn money to pay the rent,” she rambled.

Miss Hawley’s voice went from _upset_ to _dead sad_ while she went through her speech, but it seemed like she couldn’t help it. Stefan wondered whether he was the first person she had told all of this to - surely she had a friend or two she telephoned about the whole thing, but it really seemed like she had not opened up to anyone before. His tongue slid over his lower lip - a motion he always did unconsciously while he was thinking - before handing her a handkerchief.

“It seems like you’re in dire straits here, huh?”

“Thanks,” Miss Hawley mumbled, taking the handkerchief but blinking her tears away. “And really, I’m sorry about my emotional outburst here. It must seem ridiculous to you, but I really don’t-”

“It’s alright,” Stefan interrupted her and she blinked at him - bright, gray eyes staring at him in confusion. This woman had a lot on her plate, and if he had lost his car, his job, _and_ had an injured family member at home to take care of? Well, that would call for a night at the bar and some drinks to drown those sorrows away.

Bekowsky sighed. “Listen Miss Hawley, I get your problem, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience the LAPD has caused you and your family.” Pushing himself forward, he stood up and looked around before grabbing a notepad someone had left on one of the tables.

“Write down your phone number and I will see what I can do for you and your dad. Maybe I’ll find someone in this building who’ll be able to help you out,” he said and saw her face light up instantly.

“Really? That would be amazing, Detective Bekowsky! I... I don’t know what to say,” she said and quickly grabbed the pen he was holding out to her. A smile crept on her face as she wrote down her number, and Stefan felt the corners of his mouth arch up, too. As she looked up at him, her smile shone bright like the sun.

If today was nothing but a day full of dull paperwork, at least he made one person’s life a bit better (of course, after having ruined that exact life... [well, Cole drove so... practically…] - nevermind).

“Thank you so much,” she repeated.

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not sure if I can do anything for you, miss, but I sure as hell can try,” he said, tipping his hat. Her smile flattened a bit - which strangely made him want to bring back the full sunshiny smile, but she nodded bravely.

“Of course. Well, I should get going, I take it you’re busy with actual police work. Thank you for your time, Detective Bekowsky.” With that, she rose from her seat, pushed the notepad closer to him, and then turned around to leave. His gaze followed her until she closed the door behind her.

What a strange little lady - literally. He took the notepad, ripped the page off and tucked it in his suit jacket. Well done, Bekowsky. You got the dame’s hopes up for something practically impossible but hey, at least you got her number...

Acting more on a feeling than on logic, he leaned over and watched the sidewalk in front of the station. It didn’t take long for brown curls and a green dress to appear, and curiously, Stefan watched. Miss Hawley stood there for a moment, holding her face up towards the sun before she opened her purse. She rummaged around in it for a while before her shoulders visibly sagged and she started walking.

Bekowsky yanked open the window and leaned out. “Miss Hawley!” he called after her, stopping her in her tracks. She turned around and looked back up at him. “Wait right there, I’ll be down in a second!” he explained. And with that, he closed the window again. But before he could make his way downstairs, there was one more thing he had to do.

“Psst, Phelps,” he whispered, popping his head into the office. “Can you cover for me when the captain asks where I am? Thanks!”

Cole still sat at his desk. Being the good and dutiful cop that he was, he was still writing his report. When he heard Stefan talking to him, he looked up, but before he could answer, or even ask what the hell was going on, Bekowsky had vanished already. While Cole Phelps blinked perplexed, Stefan was making his way downstairs.

“Ah, good. You’re still here,” he said as he left the station, passing two beat cops who accompanied a hobo inside.

“Yeah, I am,” Miss Hawley simply said and looked at him, one eyebrow perched up, a curious expression on her face. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Stefan grinned at her. It was always a nice surprise when people actually wanted to help him instead of cursing or shooting at him, especially if those people looked that pretty - but he was getting caught up here.

The detective cleared his throat and pointed towards his car. “I’d like to offer you a ride home, courtesy of the LAPD. I take it you walked here this morning so I’d rather make sure you get home safely. From what I gathered, your father does rely on you now,” he said, accompanying his words with a sympathetic smile.

First, all he could see was suspicion. Miss Hawley didn’t seem sure whether he was trustworthy enough to get into a car with, but he wasn’t Cole, so it was definitely safe to drive with him.

But she doesn’t know that. Does she, Stefan?

“I can assure you I’m a very good driver and I have only the best of intentions,” he added, pressing his hand to his heart and smiling at her as she wavered a little. Well, alright it might not be a hundred percent true, but he really wanted her to get home safely. His silly gesture made her laugh - a bright laugh that matched the sunshine-like smile and she finally nodded.

“Alright, you got me, Detective. It’s a very generous offer, thank you,” Miss Hawley said, and entered the car as he held the door open for her. He quickly made his way around the black Buick and got in, starting the engine.

“Alright, miss, where to?”

“Can you please drop me off at the corner of Fourth and Alexandria?”

“Sure thing,” Stefan said. He then quickly checked the rear-view mirror, and pulled out into traffic. For a while neither of them said a word. The radio was turned off, no official reports came in over the police radio, and the only sound in the car was the humming of the engine.

Stefan pondered over how to start a conversation. His impulsive offer to drive her home had given him a little more time with the woman next to him, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything to talk to her about. And - to his own surprise - he really wanted to talk to her.

“Fourth and Alexandria… That’s Wilshire, right?” he finally said. “That must have been quite a hike you made this morning then.” Wow. Real smooth, Stefan.

“That’s right, Detective,” she said, looking up and at him. She seemed relieved to finally have something to talk about, too.

“And in those? Impressive,” Stefan commented and nodded towards her red shoes.

Her gaze followed his and then she rubbed her forehead, eyes closed, an exhausted smile gracing her lips. “These? Yeah. They were the only shoes I had this morning. When I walked home yesterday, after… well, after I had been let go, one of my heels broke off, and this was the only suitable dress I could find to go out in public this morning, so I really had no other option than to combine them. I know it’s a poor choice in colours, believe me.”

Stefan shot a smile her way before taking a left turn. He didn’t want her to feel bad. “Don’t worry, I’m really not good with fashionable choices. When I got this tie and pocket square, I had to ask one of the ladies who worked in the shop if it looked alright.”

It did make her smile and she looked over at him, leaning a little forward to take in his tie and pocket square. “I like the colour, it nearly matches my dress.”

“And that’s the only reason I chose it. Hoping one day a beautiful lady would come to the station and then we could match in colours.” The words were out before he realised he’d said them, but Miss Hawley just laughed.

“Oh, how lucky you were today, then,” she said, smiling at him. But out of the corners of his eyes, he could see a blush creeping up her cheeks. He stopped at a traffic light and watched a passersby crossing the road, trying to play over his embarrassment. He was usually so much better with witty remarks around dames and broads alike.

And for him, there definitely was a difference between the two. Just on a nearby pedestrian crossing, he could see both types of women: the classy dames, and the broads who already looked like trouble from ten feet away.

But that was Los Angeles! If you really wanted to, you could find all sorts of strange characters. The City of Angels was a lively city. Everyday things changed, yet the city still somehow remained the same, as if nothing ever happened. And he knew things _were_ happening.

As a cop you saw things you’d rather not see, and this city only ever seemed to bring out the worst in people. Theft, adultery, hatred, violence - the people in this city were ready to go through tremendous trouble to achieve their goals - to lie, to hurt, to bribe, to kill, or to hold illegal street races just for fun. And through that, they brought harm to inculpable citizens.

“Well, it’s a bit of our fault that you had to go through all this trouble, miss,” he made himself say, feeling a lump form in his throat.

As the traffic light turned green, and they continued on their way, Miss Hawley remained silent. She didn’t say a word for a while, picking at her gloves, but as the silence had grown uncomfortable and sticky like chewing gum, she looked up at him.

“I’ve lived in this city my whole life, and believe me, it hasn’t been all that nice. Never, actually. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from it, it’s that Los Angeles rarely ever throws anything at you that you can’t handle.”

He pondered over her words a while, reading between the lines and gathering as much information on her as possible. “You’re one tough lady, Miss Hawley,” he finally said, a small smile on his lips. “I really hope we can resolve this situation with your father’s car,” he added and it earned him her sunshine-like smile.

“Thank you, Detective. Oh, and the next corner will do just fine, thank you.”

The whole way Miss Hawley had walked to the station this morning - probably an hour on foot - was merely a fifteen minute car ride, but it still surprised Stefan how abruptly it was coming to an end. He parked the car and was about to get out to hold the door open for her, but she had already gotten out of the car. She leaned in again through the window to talk to him once more. “Again, Detective. This was very kind of you, thanks.”

And with that, she turned around, walking into a four story brick building and again, he watched her until she disappeared through the door. (Was there a pattern forming here? If so, he didn’t particularly like it.) The neighbourhood was down-and-out, but the people walking around didn’t look too bad. He waited for another minute, staring at the door through which the woman had just disappeared, before driving back to Central Station - alone in the car, with only his thoughts to keep him company.

“So,” Cole started when Stefan finally returned to his desk, pulling a case file closer towards him. “Wanna talk about it?” Cole asked, a shit-eating grin on his face that always drove Stefan mad.

“No,” Stefan simply said, gripping his pen a little tighter. Burying himself in paperwork usually worked to keep his thoughts at bay, but today Bekowsky was having a hard time focusing on anything else besides brown curls and a sunshiny smile he couldn’t get off of his mind.


	2. Night And Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to YoureNotMySupervisor for being an absolute champ and wonderful beta! I'm so glad you're helping me here and I bet my grammar mistakes are, too! 
> 
> This chapter focuses a lot more on Elsie Hawley, introducing her to you and allowing you a glimpse in her life.  
> Feel free to give me your opinions and thoughts on all this and stay tuned for more!

> Night and day; why is it so? That this longing for you follows wherever I go? In the roarin' traffic's boom, in the silence of my lonely room - I think of you, day and night.  
> 

  
Elsie Hawley entered her apartment and as she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it and sighed deeply. But before she could put her thoughts in order, a voice echoed through the small apartment. 

“Elsie? Is that you?” she heard her father call out to her, but before she answered, she took another second to catch her breath. This had been the most confusing morning she had experienced in a long time - including yesterday when she had been fired out of the blue.

“Coming, dad,” she called back as she slid out of the red pumps. She sighed and rubbed her feet. Sure, the red shoes had been the most sensible choice this morning, being the only pair that were intact. But her feet still hurt from her walk home from her former workplace, as well as her ‘hike’ - as Detective Bekowsky had called it - to Central Station. 

Detective Bekowsky… Elsie sighed and replayed the morning in her head. As she had walked to the station, she had sworn she’d remain stern and tough, but as she had seen him, her strong will had wavered for the first time. With every kind gesture, her determination to be furious at the LAPD had vanished a little more. 

He had seemed so attentive. He had even noticed her shoes… What a silly thought! But before today, she had never met a man who paid attention to something so dull - at least for them - as shoes. She looked down at the pair of red pumps and sighed. Still, she really missed her white peep toes.

But new shoes were out of the question at the moment. Elsie sighed and pulled off her gloves. She placed them on the counter by the door along with her purse, before walking through an opening to the living room/kitchen combination. There, she saw a woman with brown hair sitting next to her father. 

“Auntie Flo!” Elise exclaimed and a smile made its way onto her face, which her aunt returned. She had the same hair as Elsie and her dad, although hers was starting to grey. Flo’s dark eyes watched her niece as she sat down next to her father. 

“I’m so glad to see you!” Elsie said. “I take it you wanted to check in on dad?”

“Of course,” her aunt replied and smiled at her niece. Florence Charlton had no children of her own and had always adored her niece. Although Elsie had always caused trouble from her first day of school to the day of her college graduation, Florence had always loved and supported her. “Your dad told me you went to the police station. How did that go?”

“Well,” Elsie started and immediately her thoughts drifted back to the handsome detective. “I spoke with one of the detectives that was involved in the street race yesterday and he said he would try and find someone who might be able to help us.”

Auntie Florence raised her eyebrows. “You did?” As Elsie nodded, her aunt added, “I didn’t think that something like this was possible. I don’t remember a time the LAPD wasn’t useless. The detectives of this city are a disgrace.”

Out of the blue - or maybe not so far out of the blue - Elsie felt the need to defend a certain detective. A detective she had just met and knew nothing about. Right, _shut it_! She scolded herself in her head and looked at her aunt.

Sure, Florence had a right to be mad at the police force of the city. Her husband had been killed in a bar fight, and the investigating detectives weren’t able to find the guy who delivered the final blow. Ever since then, Aunt Florence had developed a certain attitude towards the police - and rightly so. Elsie had loved her uncle, but she had gotten used to losing people close to her. It had become a sort of habit - funerals, graveyard visits, flowers for the dead, handkerchiefs for the living. 

Every family in L.A. had their troubles, and Elsie Hawley’s was no different. Through that though, they all were united, in a strange way. “Well, maybe we’ve got better luck this time,” Elsie’s father said, pulling Elsie out of her thoughts. Both his daughter and his sister gave him a sympathetic smile. Ever since Elsie’s mother had died, he was trying to keep the family close. Reaching out for his sister’s and his daughter’s hands, he pulled them all together and they sat on the sofa without saying a word, everyone pondering on their own thoughts. 

Elsie looked at her father’s hand and wondered when it had changed so much. She remembered her father’s hands as strong and huge, now they looked tired, covered in scars and lines and aging spots. Her eyes met his - gray eyes looked into brown ones, but her gaze flickered up to the cut above his eyebrow and the bruises formed around it.

“What do you say to lunch and afterwards some music, maybe a fresh bandage for your head?” Elsie suggested and got up, her father nodding. 

“I should rest a little,” he said and started to get comfortable on the sofa as his sister rose to her feet. 

“I’ll make myself useful and help you,” she announced, and together the two women crossed the short distance to the kitchen island. 

The apartment wasn’t big, but the Hawleys had lived there their whole lives. Upon entering, one found themselves in a long hall at the end of which a bathroom sat. Turning right from there, Elsie’s parents had their bedroom. The bed that had only had one occupant since Elsie’s mother had passed took most of the room, a desk and a cupboard took up the rest. Next to it, closer to the front door, was Elsie’s room. In it was a bed, a bookshelf, a cupboard, and a vanity with a mirror. Carved into the vanity were roses encompassing the reflecting glass, and lastly, Elsie’s prized possession: her sewing machine. The other side of the flat was taken up by a small but comfortable living room equipped with a sofa, an armchair, and a radio, along with a round table and four chairs. At the front end was the kitchen area complete with a sink, a fridge and a stove. 

It wasn’t much, and one could see the years this furniture had under its belt. But everything was well-cared for and spotlessly clean. The Hawleys didn’t have much, but what they did have, they cherished. And it was the same with family.

“Thanks for checking on him, Auntie Flo,” Elsie whispered as she pulled a bucket of potatoes from under the sink and grabbed a kitchen knife, starting to peel them.

Her aunt waved the comment off with her hand as if it were an annoying fly and opened the fridge. “This is family, Elsie dear, and what’s more important than family?”

“I know,” Elsie simply answered, hoping her aunt knew nonetheless how much it meant to her. As her aunt started to cut the carrots, she looked over at the younger woman who absentmindedly peeled one potato after another.

“So,” she started, dropping the carrots in the same pot as the potatoes, “you were back quickly. Your father told me you’d left early in the morning and said you’d walk, you crazy thing.”

“The detective I spoke with drove me back. Courtesy of the LAPD,” she repeated Detective Bekowsky’s words.

“Oh?” her aunt asked, “They do that now?”

Elsie hesitated a moment. “I don’t think it’s a regular service.”

Florence’s eyebrows wandered up her forehead in surprise. She didn’t want to pester her niece about the details, but she sure was curious. She peeled and cut another carrot, throwing it into the pot. “Uh-huh,” she simply answered, and the two women finished the preparation in silence. While Elsie roasted the steaks, Florence sat down on the table and pulled the newspaper closer while her brother snored away on the couch. 

Right on the title page, a photograph showed two men in suits, complete with hats and charming smiles who were described as ‘the heroes who cleared Los Angeles’ streets from yet another gang of delinquents.’

“Which one was it, Elsie?” her aunt asked. Taken by surprise, Elsie looked up from the frying pan. Florence stood next to her, holding up the paper. “Which of these good looking gentlemen drove you home today?”

“Stop it, Aunt Flo,” Elsie said, but her cheeks burned all the same.

“Was it the handsome one in the darker suit?” she wanted to know, pointing at Stefan Bekowsky, hitting the nail right on the head. 

“Aunt Florence,” Elsie reprimanded her, but it was enough for her aunt to know she had been right. Her niece had a crush! 

“I think he’s the better looking of the two. I mean did you see his face? That’s one handsome man here.” She teased her niece, and Elsie giggled aware of her red cheeks. Seeing her niece so flustered, Florence winked at her. “I won’t tell your dad, but I need to know more about this young man, alright? Even though he’s a copper.”And without waiting for her niece to agree to anything, she turned around to wake her brother for their shared lunch.

\---

“So,” Stella said, taking another sip of her iced tea. “Tell me about the cute detective your aunt mentioned earlier.” 

Elsie Hawley simply wanted to disappear into thin air as she heard her friend talk like that. She was sitting in a diner with Stella Edwards enjoying some iced tea and a scone. The sun was out as usual, and Elsie sighed as Stella nudged her excitedly. 

“I already told you,” Elsie answered. “He was very nice and drove me home after promising that he would try to help me and Dad.” Before Stella could interrupt her again, she continued. “But what would help us even more is if _you_ were helping me go through _these_ ,” she said, gesturing to the newspapers scattered in front of them, “instead of asking me about silly things like handsome detectives.” 

Stella sighed defeatedly, putting her glass down and tearing her blue eyes away from her friend and towards the advertisements. 

“Alright, sorry. You know,” she started suggesting, “I could always ask my boss if we’re in need of another secretary?” 

Elsie sighed and looked at her friend apologetically. Although she would love to spend more time with her, she couldn’t imagine working as a secretary at Insta Heat. 

“It’s a very sweet thing to offer, maybe if we don’t find anything here I’ll take you up on it.” That made the other woman smile and Elsie returned the gesture, unable to hold back when Stella was this excited about something.

But really, it was her whole demeanour. Stella never hid any of her feelings - something Elsie admired. She was full of life and hope and excitement - always ready to go wherever, whenever, as long as it was with her friends. She was always happy to help, and always kept those she loved close to her. What was there not to love about her?

Today, she had called Elsie from work, asking if she wanted to meet up after Stella had finished for the day. That’s when Elsie had told her all about the accident and the car. Without hesitating, Stella had picked Elsie up after her shift, and treated her to iced tea, scones, and quality time. 

In all honesty, Stella was one of the best - and prettiest - people Elsie had ever met - tall, curvy, and self-confident, Elsie had thought she was a celebrity when she had first met her. When she and her friend Joan had been out dancing in the Crystal Ballroom, Stella had spotted them in the crowd and had asked them if they wanted to dance together - just like that. Elsie loved recalling their first meeting, because it still was a bit hard to believe that a pretty, intelligent woman like Stella liked to spend time with her.

Quickly Elsie had learned that whomever Stella Edwards would place in her heart would be in it for the long run. Stella cared deeply for her friends, and always made sure to check on them, as she had proven today.

Now, her ginger curls fell on her shoulder and her light blue eyes scanned Elsie attentively. “Alright, so what are we looking for? Another job in a shoe store?”

While Elsie pulled a face, Stella laughed. “Not if I can avoid it,” Elsie replied sourly. A job as a saleswoman was really her last resort. “I’d love to do something where I can put my skills to use. Something where I can be creative,” she stated and Stella saluted, winking at her friend. 

“Alright, ma’am, gotcha.” And with that, they started to browse the papers. 

After what seemed like an eternity (it had been an hour), two more iced teas, and a round of chocolate brownies - courtesy of Stella - the women were exhausted. 

“Alright, what have you got?” Elsie wanted to know, pushing the paper away from her and rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

“One advertisement for the honorable job as a secretary of a company that produces and cans paint,” Stella reported. Elsie sighed heavily as Stella continued. “And another one for an employee in a fashion store. I thought you’d like that, I mean, since you sew yourself and…” Stella’s voice trailed off as she saw Elsie’s face.

“I do like to sew, Stella, but for myself. I doubt that my taste in fashion is what people would want to see or wear, or that my opinion would be the right one if they wanted to know if a garment suited them or not. It’s much more a job for you,” Elsie suggested but Stella shook her head. 

“I’m as happy as can be at Insta Heat. Thanks, though.” Her friend’s loyalty was boundless, it even expanded into her job. 

“But you have to admit,” Elsie said, “the modelling experience you have would help you greatly.”

Stella shrugged and nodded, but didn’t comment on it further. She was very modest when it came to her modelling jobs, but once she had invited Elsie and the girls to come along and it had been very glamorous. Stella modelled for the McCall catalogues when they presented their new patterns to investors, and Elsie had loved every single moment. 

The fabrics, the patterns, the ways the dresses flowed around the bodies of the models - she still treasured the experience and went home with a million ideas for new patterns herself. 

“What did you find?” Stella asked and Elsie sighed, plucking a small piece from a chocolate brownie and nibbling at it.

“Pretty much the same jobs,” she answered, but Stella reached out for her hand and pressed it gently. 

“There are new advertisements in the papers every day. We’ll try our luck again tomorrow, what do ya say?” 

A tired smile on her lips, Elsie looked up at her friend and nodded. “We’ll do that. Thanks Stella.”

“Nothing to thank me for, Elsie. I’ve got your back, remember?” the woman with the red hair said and Elsie nodded. “And before you get even sadder, let’s go and visit Joan! I bet the kids will cheer you up.” 

This offer was too good to decline, Elsie thought excitedly as she stood up and gathered her purse. She followed Stella to her car, musing that she could count herself lucky to have a friend like Stella.  
\---

Stella had been right, as per usual. The kids did cheer Elsie up. As soon as Albert, Joan’s older son, saw Stella’s car pull in the driveway, he was hitting his tiny hands against the kitchen window, shouting their names. 

“Aw, he’s always so excited to see us,” Stella said and closed the door behind her, waiting for Elsie to catch up with her. “I hope someday someone will be just as excited to see me as this kid is.” 

“Of course, Stella! I mean, what's not to love about you?” Elsie asked genuinely while they took the stairs of the porch.

“Don’t I know it. Simply seems like nobody else does, though,” she said confidently, which made Elsie giggle.

But before they could continue their conversation, Joan Harvey opened the door, her baby Theodore in her arms, and a bright smile gracing her lips. “Albert, here’s your loudly announced visit!” she called out to her young son before continuing to speak. “It’s so good to see you girls! Come in, come in! I suppose you’re staying for dinner?”

Straight blonde hair and a gap-toothed smile had always been Joan’s trademarks, and today Elsie was even happier to see them. Joan reached out for her with her free hand and pulled her in, Stella right in tow. Elsie knew that Stella loved being at Joan’s house. Even though Stella always implied that going to Joan’s was for Elsie’s benefit, Elsie was aware of Stella’s absolute joy at seeing Joan’s children. It was possible that she was even happier than Elsie was at seeing them. 

And just like that, Elsie was swept into the married life of Joan and Clifford Harvey. It was always a special treat visiting Joan at home since she was a fantastic mother, and cared so very deeply for Elsie that she never left Joan’s house without leftovers, some pastries, or a pie she had coincidentally just made. 

Joan and Elsie had been best friends ever since their first day of school and despite all the years, this hadn’t changed a bit. They still went out dancing on the weekends, although less frequently since she had married Cliff, and they still told each other everything. Joan had been freshly married when Elsie’s mother had died, and she had helped her immensely during that difficult time with a shoulder to cry on and lots of food. Elsie didn’t know what she would have done back then without Joan, and she always felt like she would never be able to repay her friend for always sticking with her. 

Now, sitting next to her friend, Elsie smiled at Joan, who was balancing Theodore on her knees, while Stella played with Albert on the other sofa. “How are you, Joany?” Elsie asked. 

“Ah,” her friend simply said, shrugging. “You know, married life. But I’m fine. The boys are starting to romp around quite a bit, but apart from that, things are going well. Cliff just got a raise so we’re fine, really. How about you?”

Over the sound of Stella pretending to be a locomotive conductor with Albert on her knees, Elsie answered. “To be honest, not so great. I got fired from _Every Pair_ and then Dad had a car accident. His pick-up got trashed in a street race.” 

Joan covered her mouth with one hand while the other grasped for the cross that hung around her neck. “Oh Elsie, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is Arthur alright?”

“Yeah, Dad is fine. He’s got a cut over his eyebrows, but that’ll heal and then he’ll have a story to tell.”

“I’m so sorry that all happened at once.”

“Life’s like that,” Stella commented from the other sofa and looked at her friend sympathetically while she tickled Theodore. “But we’ll help her get through this, right?”

“Oh, sure we will,” Joan replied and grabbed a small notebook resting on the coffee table. “I’ll call Betty and the other girls from my book club and see if they know of any job offers and maybe Clifford has an idea or two of whom to ask.” 

While Joan wrote down some thoughts, Elsie watched her and felt herself tearing up. She was so incredibly lucky to have friends like these two. As she blinked in an attempt to get rid of the tears, one rolled down her cheek and she grabbed her purse to pull out a handkerchief. 

As she dabbed the tears away, she noticed the unknown scent coming off of the handkerchief. Frowning, she looked at it before remembering that it was Detective Bekowsky’s. She had tucked it in her purse after she had left Central Station yesterday and had since forgotten about it completely. The scent of cigarettes, an earthy aroma of aftershave, and something else she couldn’t put her finger on wafted around her, and she stared at the handkerchief for a second trying to process all of the emotions that suddenly resurfaced. 

The warmth of his smile, the weird ache in her chest as he had pledged to help her, her burning cheeks when he had called her beautiful… 

“Elsie, are you alright?” Joan’s voice called her back into the present. “Your cheeks… whose handkerchief is that? Who is SB?” Her friend continued to press her on it, and before she could do anything to stop it, Joan had snatched the handkerchief out of her hand. 

“Ooh, is this _his_?” Stella wanted to know and stood up, joining the others on the sofa. She was promptly followed by Theodore.

“Whose? Would someone tell me what is happening?” Joan demanded and handed the handkerchief back.

“Elsie ran into a handsome detective at Central Station and he promised to help her and then he drove her home,” Stella said, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

“Oh?” Joan commented and grinned smugly. “And, what’s the detective like? Is he a nice fella?”

“D’you have the newspaper from this morning here? His picture should be in there.” 

Before Stella had finished talking, Joan already reached for the paper that rested on the coffee table. She opened it and the girls roamed it, looking for Detective Bekowsky’s picture. “That’s him!” Stella said suddenly and pointed at it. “At least that’s what Aunt Florence said,” she added and Joan inspected the picture while Elsie still fidgeted with the handkerchief.

Only now she saw the stitched initials SB in one corner. The thread was dark green, matching his pocket square and tie. Absent-mindedly, she smiled while recalling their conversation about fashionable accessories. 

“He’s really handsome, Elsie. But he looks like trouble,” Joan stated and looked at her friend, who still looked at the handkerchief. 

“Huh?” she asked, caught off-guard by her friend’s comment. 

“I think he looks just fine. If you decide not to like him anymore, please let me know. Or maybe arrange for me to meet his partner? He’s really handsome and it says he’s a war hero here,” Stella exclaimed excitedly. 

“I don’t _like_ him,” Elsie said and leaned back, but Joan raised one eyebrow at her.

“Oh please,” she said. “I’ve seen this look on your face a hundred times. You fancy the cop,” she said, matter-of-factly. Elsie wanted to reply, but Joan’s raised eyebrows made her reconsider. Maybe Joan was right and she had a tiny crush on Detective Bekowsky. Maybe Joan was also right with her hunch that a detective would mean trouble. But what was she even thinking? There were more important things at hand right now.

“Girls,” Elsie said, not able to help a small sigh escaping her lips. “This is nothing,” she continued, and gestured towards the handkerchief. “He was just being friendly. He’s a cop and you know what my family thinks of them, so let’s move past it.” 

Although Stella and Joan shared a quick glance, they both knew better than to press their friend. And as Joan’s eyes landed on the open notebook in her lap, she recalled the more pressing problem at hand - to get Elsie a job. 

“If you guys stay for dinner, I’ll make sure to pack you some pie, alright?” Joan asked and as she got up, Elsie reached for her hand, squeezing it gently in gratitude.

No matter what life threw at you, it wasn’t so bad when you had friends like these girls by your side.

And L.A. never burdened you with something you couldn’t handle, right?

\---

At the other end of town, later that night, Stefan Bekowsky was laying awake in bed, thinking about his day. The air was still hot, so he only wore an undershirt and shorts. A pyjama was just too much in the heat of the L.A. summer. He stared at the ceiling and listened to the sounds of the city.

Nights were always busy, but as a detective, days were busy too and he really needed his sleep. Unfortunately, there was so much on his mind. Until late he had tried to find a way to solve a certain Hawley case without much success. The secretaries of the station - lovely girls - didn’t know who to talk to about the issue, and he had spent an hour on the phone trying to find a solution. But no matter who he had called, they were just as stumped as he was.

He sighed and turned over, trying to get more comfortable. But whenever he closed his eyes, the only thing he saw were brown curls, gray eyes and a sunshine-like smile that kept him awake.

This is getting ridiculous, Stefan.

And he _knew_ that. 

He admitted that it was absurd of him to still think about her to the point of being unable to sleep, but he simply couldn’t stop. She had been on his mind the whole day. In the afternoon when he and Cole had sat at their desks finishing paperwork, on his way home, while he had his lonely dinner, in the shower (a very adverse place to have thoughts like this) and even now. Heck, he’d even considered taking a detour to drive by her house again - but of course he hadn’t 

This felt awfully familiar and he didn’t want to go through this whole ordeal again, but then again, the heart chose without consulting with the brain.

Pull yourself together, Bekowsky, you’re getting sentimental. You need to get some sleep, for crying out loud! 

Pressing his palms on his eyes, he sighed deeply and turned on his back again trying to fall asleep, while a certain someone with a sunshiny smile at the other end of town had similar problems falling asleep.


	3. You Go To My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys hi! Finally a new chapter here, hooray!  
> I'm sorry it took me so long, final exams, graduation and all sorts of personal stuff got in the way, but here we are! Finally!  
> It's a very long chapter in comparison to the first two and I hope that makes up for the long wait a bit! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to leave me your thoughts in the comments!

> You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise like a summer with a thousand Julys.  
> 

Stefan Bekowsky wasn’t having a good morning.

A very early call had ordered him and his partner back to Central Station after he had gotten very little sleep because of a young lady with a smile like sunshine, and now he was on his way to a crime scene without as much as a cup of coffee to help him endure this. 

“Watch it, Bekowsky!” Cole called him out for what must have been the hundredth time this morning (it was the third) and Stefan blinked, concentrating on the road again. “What’s wrong with you?” Phelps pressed, but his partner simply shrugged. Pretty bold of Cole to call him out for his driving, Stefan thought, but he bit his tongue. 

Bekowsky drove himself and Phelps to a new crime scene in his black Buick. Captain Leary had informed them once they had arrived at Central Station, that a man had been killed in a hit and run. Bekowsky knew these cases. This (and recovering abandoned cars) was the usual business of the traffic department, but Bekowsky’s head wasn’t in the game this morning, and he was relying on the sharp wit of Cole Phelps to do the job - he added this fact to the list of reasons why he shouldn't piss Phelps off this morning. Phelps had shown his capacity to solve crimes in their prior cases, and hopefully it would make up for Stefan’s absentmindedness. 

When they arrived, bloody-half-past-fucking-four in the morning, Carruthers was already at the scene examining the body and taking notes, like it was nothing. Photographs of the victim were being taken, and Stefan could also see a broad smoking in front of the cafe. 

God, he was tired.

But before he could even think of something else, the patrolman stepped closer... Kaplan if he remembered correctly, and informed him and Cole about the vic. “A white male, name of Lester Pattison,” Kaplan reported. Turning around, he gestured towards the entrance of the bar. “Walked out there and into the street, car hit over there, and he ended up here. Dead on impact by the look of it.” 

Stefan noticed Cole following the gestures the patrolman made, trying to reproduce the course of events, before asking about possible witnesses. He was awake and eager to get started. One more reason why Stefan sometimes questioned Cole’s humanity. He was more like a machine sometimes...

“The only one with anything useful to contribute is the young lady over there. She lives above the bar. Name of Shannon Perry. No, it’s not a stage name,” he commented before continuing. “Twenty-four years old. Left Kansas to follow the Yellow Brick Road.”

“Is that so?” Stefan asked, raising his eyebrows, a tired grin on his lips. It wasn’t unusual to find young girls in this city, hoping for their breakthrough. They were usually quite easy on the eye and often desperate, but Cole interrupted any further banter.

“We’ll take a formal statement later. Right now, we’re going to take a look around.”

With that, the patrolman walked back to the witness and Cole immediately started a conversation with Carruthers. 

Stefan followed him and listened in on the conversation, observing the body. Not a pretty sight, especially not at this early hour and on an empty stomach. But he’d seen worse. That’s what working traffic entailed. 

While Cole inspected the body, he looked at the blood stains and the skid marks, an indication that whoever had run that poor fella over had braked. Still, they had not stopped and Stefan shook his head.

It was pretty hard for him to wrap his head around people and their actions sometimes. But on the flip side, his sister had always said that he saw the world too black-and-white. Either something was right or it was wrong. And, for him at least, having done wrong, the only option remaining was to take responsibility. 

It wasn’t that hard, was it?

The skid marks were very long and the blood stains indicated that the body must have travelled at least twenty feet before it came to a halt - not a pretty thing to witness. While Cole inspected the alley right next to the cafe, his eyes wandered over to the young woman smoking next to the entrance. 

His fingers itched for a cig himself but he couldn’t smoke right now. After all, he was on the job here. 

“Stefan!” He heard Cole’s voice coming out of the alley and walked over. “Look at this. A knife covered in blood.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “Could be a steak knife. This is a hit and run case, Phelps. Anyone could have thrown away a kitchen knife.”

Without missing a beat though, Cole replied, “In any case, we’ll want Tech Services to scrub the alleyway before they bag the knife.” 

There wasn’t much use in arguing with Cole Phelps. Period. Stefan nodded and followed his partner as he made his way to talk to Miss Perry. They had developed a routine of Cole asking the questions and Stefan only intervening when necessary. He didn’t mind, especially not today. 

“Miss Perry, I’m Detective Phelps. This is my partner Detective Bekowsky,” Cole started and Stefan tipped his hat. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Stefan watched closely as Miss Perry - tall, blonde, pretty face - gave her report of the incident. She told the two detectives about an arguing couple and then the car. She even added the model and a part of the license plate after Phelps asked her. This was turning out better than he’d hoped.

“Tell me more about the argument you heard,” Cole said, but she hesitated. A bit too long for Stefan’s taste.

“Well, there were two voices. A man and a woman, that’s all.” 

By now, Bekowsky didn’t even need to look at his partner anymore to know that Phelps, too, knew this wasn’t all. He had really proven himself quite good at interrogating. “Why are you holding out on us, Miss Perry?” he pressed and the young woman sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted, “I was hoping to tell my story to the newspapers.” He’d known it. This was such a typical story for Los Angeles. but he simply didn’t have the time or the nerve for any of this tonight.

“Cough it up, sister. We don’t have all night,” he said and she complied, revealing that the people arguing were a married couple. As Phelps thanked her, adding how she had been very helpful and telling her she was free to go, her face lit up. 

“You really think so? I hope you find that driver and put him away,” she said sternly and Bekowsky turned to leave, shaking his head. He looked at his partner who had a pleased smile on his face.

“You’ve certainly got a way with the dames, Phelps,” Stefan teased, but Cole sounded annoyed and wiped the grin off his face. 

“Give it a rest, Bekowsky.” 

Alright then. “Let’s see what the patrons have to say,” he said and followed Cole who announced he’d take the bartender, so getting information from the rest of the patrons was Stefan’s job. He sighed, fighting off a yawn and started. 

The patrons weren’t of the talking kind and he only got what he needed out of them in a slow and painful process. What he could get, he wrote down in his notebook, but it wasn’t much. He was relying on Phelps here, he knew that, but from what he could hear when he passed his partner at the bar, Cole had actually had a bit more luck. 

“You get anything out of the regulars?” Phelps asked once he had finished interrogating the bartender, but Stefan simply shrugged. 

“They weren’t giving too much away. They liked watching Lester and Lorna, his wife, go a few rounds every other day. And Lester was a fan of the love tap.” 

While Phelps reached for the telephone, Stefan sighed and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a second. His mind went over the case already, but he didn’t quite feel like finding the driver. 

If this Pattison person had really hit his wife, maybe he deserved to be run over by a car. The thought of marrying a woman and then hitting her made Stefan sick. Why not end things? Why decide to marry someone anyways if one wasn’t a hundred percent certain that this was _the_ person? 

That’s why he didn’t have a wife. He simply hadn’t found _his_ person (although very unwanted, of course, a certain someone crossed his mind here). Stefan was sure that everybody had someone waiting for them somewhere on this ragged planet. And not settling down had its benefits, too.

Pushing the thoughts of Elsie Hawley aside, his head perked up as Cole talked to the operator on the phone. 

_“Only one possible make on that license,”_ Stefan heard a voice coming through the telephone. _“Registered to a William Shelton, 738 West Temple Street.”_

Before hanging up, Cole thanked the dispatch operator. 

“Looks like we caught a break on this one,” Stefan said and Cole nodded. “We should pay that Shelton guy a visit.”

But Cole was ahead of him here (like always) and as such, he was already making his way to the car. Stefan followed, and for once he was glad that Cole took the wheel and he didn’t have to drive himself. 

He settled down and looked at his partner, finding Cole’s expression weirdly worried. He tried to reassure Cole, “It’s a lucky break getting a partial ID. These cases are usually dead in the water after twenty-four hours if no one comes forward.”

Cole nodded briskly before he asked, “Why don’t they just stop?”

This seemed to be getting to Cole quite a bit. It was his first hit and run after all, and Stefan pondered over how to best present his take on that question. “You heard about fight or flight during the war?” Cole nodded. “Well, in a hit and run, the perp is already in flight. It’s easier to keep going. Takes a degree of moral courage to stop and accept responsibility.” 

Something that not many people in this city had. He’d seen it often enough in all of his years in traffic. While they made their way towards Shelton’s address, Stefan observed the lights of the oncoming cars, although they blurred in his tired vision. 

“You’re not as dumb as you make yourself out to be, are you, Bekowsky?” Cole said casually and Stefan smiled.

“I didn’t know I _was_ making myself out to be dumb.”

After that, the two men didn’t speak much. The city around them lay silent with only a couple of cars passing by, and very few people on the streets. Even a city like Los Angeles needed its beauty sleep.

As they arrived at Shelton’s residence, it was 4:43am. “What now?” asked Cole and turned towards his partner. 

“Well...” Stefan started and got more comfortable on the seat. “We don’t wanna spook him and there’s a good chance he’s home.” He nodded towards the car parked in front of them. “This is his car so we can just stay here and wait for him to turn up.” 

Cole looked at the Lincoln and nodded. “Alright. Stake out it is, then.”

Facing towards the building’s entrance, Stefan crossed his arms on his chest. He was so tired. It would probably take some time before this coward would turn up again. He hated these long nights. Why couldn’t perps act according to office hours?

But on the other hand, there was no job he’d rather do. Even if he had to spend long days and even longer nights in a stuffy car. He lowered the window and took a breath of what could be considered cold L.A. air. 

“You alright, Stefan?” he heard Cole ask and turned around. “You seem a bit off your game today.”

“Tonight,” Stefan corrected and shrugged. “But you’re right. Didn’t get exactly much sleep last night,”

“Oh?” Cole asked, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “Did you have company over?”

“I wish,” Stefan said, too tired for a witty comeback. 

“You still thinking about this Hawley girl?” Cole asked him after a couple of minutes had passed. Stefan jerked his head around to look at him suspiciously. 

“How come you’re interested in what I think now, Cole?” he snapped, a bit harsher than he’d intended. “You don’t share anything about your life but want to know my personal story now?”

“Figured if you wanted to talk about something, might as well be your partner you confide in,” Cole said, masking all emotion in his voice, but his forehead wrinkled all the same. “But I see you’ve got it all figured out, so I’ll take a nap. Wake me if you want a turn.” And with that he took off his hat, placed it over his eyes, and crossed his arms on his chest. Not long, and Stefan heard soft snores coming from Phelps.

Well, _fuck_. 

This day was getting worse by the minute. There was no reason for his tone and the snappish attitude towards his partner. Heck, Stefan respected the man and was alright with his decisions not to share his backstory. But the lack of sleep got to him. 

And apparently his partner, too. It was odd seeing Cole sleeping on the job, but apparently his maschine-like working morale and his eagerness demanded their tribute and he couldn’t really deny him a bit of rest. He could use the same.

But someone had to watch out for Shelton.

Stefan sighed deeply, rubbing his blue eyes, trying to focus. He’d have to apologise to Cole later, stand up for his rude answer to Cole’s attempt to be friendly with him, and offer an honest apology. But for now, he had to observe the car and the sidewalk and try... not to fall... asleep… 

Roughly an hour later, Cole Phelps woke up with a gasp, only to find his partner sleeping soundly next to him. A nightmare had interrupted his sleep but although his heart was still racing in his chest, he took in his surroundings, reassuring himself he was safe. 

The car was still there, the streets still empty, and most of the windows in the apartment building were still dark. He leaned back into the seat and shot Bekowsky a look before returning his attention back to the entrance of the building complex.

It took another two hours until something happened. Stefan was awake again, and to Cole’s surprise, he had apologised very sincerely for his harshness, and had also smoked three cigarettes in the last half hour. The sun was up on the horizon, signifying another hot day in the City of Angels. 

But suddenly, movement came into Stefan’s body and he pushed himself forward, throwing the cigarette through the window. “That’s the son of a bitch right there,” he said as a young man left the building, locking the door behind him.

Together they got out of the car and confronted Shelton, who was stowing away two white suitcases in the trunk of his red Lincoln. But before they could get a grip on him, he threw his suitcase towards them causing Cole to catch it, before making a run for his car and driving off.

“That coward thinks he can run from everything. Don’t let that asshole get away, Cole!”

Stefan was _pissed_. What was this idiot trying to prove here? Where was he thinking of going? Cole started the car and turned on the siren, following him in hot pursuit. While Cole tried not to crash into mailboxes or lampposts, Stefan gave his anger away.

“No wonder he killed someone! Driving like this,” Stefan exclaimed, before gripping tight onto the seat as Cole drifted around a corner, following Shelton. A young woman jumped out of the way as they hit the sidewalk a bit too close to the pedestrians, and Stefan suddenly felt very aware of all the cars and people that surrounded them. 

What if Cole crashed into another? Would they be responsible for crashing another car, ruining another life? Would these people come walking into the station and demand to talk to someone responsible, too? 

It was shit to suddenly be aware of the damage they could do. 

As they took the next corner, Shelton’s car lost grip and hit another car before driving away. Stefan flinched, but Cole didn’t give him much time to recover. At the next intersection they made a sharp left turn, which ended with Cole ramming the car into Shelton’s (his poor Buick!), causing him to stop. The detectives jumped out of the car and Cole, weapon in hand, approached Shelton and got him out of the car. Stefan cuffed him while Cole interrogated the low-life. 

It didn’t take long and once they finished, they decided to sit him down in the back of the car and wait for a patrol car. Cole had made a call to KGPL and asked for someone to pick him up. Stefan was on his second cigarette when Cole suddenly pushed himself off the car and walked across the street. 

Curious, Stefan watched his partner, who halted at a hot dog stand and returned a couple minutes later with two bottles of Cola King and two hotdogs. “To another successful car chase,” Cole toasted and handed him the bottle. 

Smiling, Stefan took it grateful for a little caffeine, but all while eating he pondered over the definition of successful. The crash car from today, the consequences it had for the people who owned it, and of course, Elsie Hawley, who he simply couldn’t get out of his head. 

\---

Elsie Hawley’s feet were sore. 

Again. 

It was just past midday and she sat on Betty Cagney’s porch, holding a glass of lemonade in her hand absentmindedly playing with the straw. She had spent the first half the day caring for her dad, making sure his cut healed nicely. She had also browsed the papers and made some calls, trying to get a job interview. 

Unfortunately, it hadn’t been a very successful day so far. 

She had walked the way to Betty’s house as it wasn’t very far, but she really needed to either buy different shoes or start earning money so she could take the bus again. 

“What do you think of working in a restaurant?” Betty asked, and Elsie looked up. She wasn’t very focused today and her thoughts wandered off constantly. She was so worried.

Worried about her father, worried about her aunt dropping shifts to be able to look after him at least once a day, worried about the fact she couldn’t get a decent night of sleep because of the detective that was on her mind nearly constantly, day and night, worried about the car, worried about her father’s job, worried about her own job...

It was just so _much_.

“Oh, waitress sounds like a good job, right Elsie?” Joan asked and looked at her. Joan was free that day because her children were spending the day with her husband in the hills surrounding the city. She and Elsie had met at Betty’s for another session of brainstorming. 

“I guess I could do that,” Elsie said, sounding not very enthusiastic.

“I could also ask Melvin if he knows about a vacant spot in his car repair shop?” Betty asked.

With the utmost effort, Elsie managed to not pull a face. “Oh no, we don’t want to inconvenience your fiancé, do we? Thanks for the offer though.”

Betty - a short woman with brown hair and eyes, a bit on the chubby side but always very friendly - nodded and looked at Elsie’s glass. “Oh, would you like a refill? You too, Joan?” 

Before any of the women could answer, Betty had already got up and gone to fetch more lemonade.

“Are you alright?” Joan asked, reaching out to take Elsie’s hand in hers.

“I’m just so tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

“Yeah, you look the part,” Joan said as Betty came back to the porch. Just then, Elsie realised Betty was wearing a very familiar skirt bearing a blue floral pattern. 

“Is this the skirt I took up last week?” Elsie asked and Betty nodded, a smile on her face.

“Yes, it fits perfectly. Thanks so much,” she said, and refilled Elsie’s and Joan’s glasses before she paused and looked contemplatingly at Elsie. “This... could actually be something to look into more, don’t you think? Maybe you could work as a seamstress somewhere?”

Stopping dead in her tracks, the glass of lemonade hovering before her mouth, Joan stared at Betty, eyes wide, before she turned to face Elsie. “That’s _it_!” she exclaimed. “Elsie, that would be perfect for you! I mean, you love to sew, you wouldn’t be in the spotlight or anything, and you’d be able to work from home if really necessary. This is a great idea, Betty!”

A bit perplexed, Elsie looked back and forth between her friends. “I’m not trained, simply self-taught. Don’t you think this might be too little to apply anywhere?”

“Nonsense,” Joan said and flicked her worries aside with a swish of her hands. “You’re wonderful, you can take some of your work there with you, and I bet you’ll persuade them with your abilities and charm. You can borrow a pair of my shoes, so you don’t have to wear the red ones when you apply somewhere, and maybe Stella can lend you one of her dresses!”

“Joan!” Elsie interrupted her friend, who smiled brightly at her. She could see the same expression on Betty’s face as well. “We don’t even know where I would apply or if there are any positions.”

Joan, barely containing her excitement, put on a more somber face. “Elsie, love, we live in Hollywoodland. I am one hundred percent sure that at least one of the big studios is looking for an eager seamstress.”

For a minute, Elsie pondered over the thought and leaned back into her chair. She took a sip of her lemonade, well aware of her friends watching her excitedly. 

“So,” Betty finally said, unable to contain her swivet much longer, “what do you think? Will you be looking into something like this? You can still take a job as a secretary or a serving girl later if you don’t like it. ”

“Can’t hurt to try,” Elsie finally answered shyly. Both girls cheered, happy to have finally found something suited for their friend. While the two started planning outfits and portfolios of Elsie’s work and wondering whether or not Stella would ask someone at McCall’s if they needed a seamstress, Elsie leaned back and looked up into the cloudless sky. 

The idea of being a seamstress had crossed her mind more often lately but she had never truly considered it. Too little was her experience, not enough was her skill - she doubted she would find a serious job. But if… yes, if she could find one, that’d be a dream come true. 

Sewing for a living? She could not imagine more fulfilling work, although both Betty, who was a teacher, and Stella would argue with her there. 

Absentmindedly, her fingers fumbled in her purse and reached for the embroidered edge of the handkerchief that was still safely tucked away. It felt good touching it, like a safe anchor, but there was no way around it - she had to give it back. 

Unfortunately, she hadn’t heard from Detective Bekowsky yet. She really wished it were different. Elsie imagined that hearing his voice again, or even seeing him, would be a truly lovely thing. Thinking of him often, mostly at night, she was more in over her head than she would like to admit - or would admit anyways. 

“Joan?” she asked, and interrupted her friend who was still planning an outfit for her. “When will Cliff come pick you up?”

“He said he’d be here half past two, why?”

“Would you mind taking me with you and letting me have these shoes today?” Elsie asked before finishing her glass of lemonade, casting a glance to her wrist watch.

“Oh, not at all. The boys will be delighted to see you,” Joan reassured her and reached out to hold her hand for a couple of seconds. “It’ll be alright, you’ll see,” she said, with such certainty in her voice that Elsie (nearly) believed her.

\---

Stefan Bekowsky yawned and rubbed his eyes, while Cole Phelps pulled into the driveway of Central Morgue.

Carruthers must have worked all night to have the results of the autopsy ready by lunchtime, he thought. Stefan was so incredibly tired, but his drive to solve this case had gotten revitalised after the visit at Lorna Pattison’s house. 

“Still can’t believe this woman. This is all too convenient for her,” Cole said as they got out of the car. While following him inside and wondering what it was Carruthers had for them, Stefan simply nodded. They had been over this already in the car, but Cole Phelps truly was a machine - one that didn’t stop until it had brought the perp to justice. 

Any perp.

Once inside, Stefan listened to Cole giving a report to the coroner. Carruthers, who looked as tired as Stefan felt, stopped them in their tracks, revealing that they’d be making a mistake by putting the blame onto Shelton.

“Run that by me again?” Stefan demanded, a confused frown gracing his face.

“The victim was dead before the car hit him. Two puncture wounds to the right side of the thorax. Second puncture reached his heart,” the coroner explained, and Cole looked at him perplexed.

“You’re kidding me.”

The two detectives leaned over the body and examined it, while Carruthers commented dryly, “Been doing this job twenty-three years, son, and no one’s ever laughed at one of my jokes.” 

“So, he was stabbed to death?” Cole asked, sounding nearly upset.

Well, they had been rather certain that they had solved the case earlier. But then the visit to Mrs. Pattison’s had changed their perspective on it again, and now it wasn’t a simple hit and run anymore? 

Admittingly, this was a lot to take in but Cole’s anger confused Stefan.

Heck, his partner had been unhappy only minutes before in the car, complaining about how it was all _too_ convenient and now he was upset that things were, in fact, different to what they had thought? 

He should get his act together. And here Stefan thought _he_ was getting irrational over his lack of sleep. 

“Long sharp knife. Length of a bayonet,” Carruthers stated, and Cole suddenly looked at Stefan. Stefan could practically hear the snarky comment about the bloody kitchen knife, but Cole held it back.

“We found a knife in the alleyway,” Cole said excitedly.

“Where is it now? Was it bagged?” the coroner asked and Cole nodded. 

“By Patrolman Kaplan.”

“Perfect, I’ll get you a definite match,” Carruthers said, and Stefan turned towards his partner, slapping him on the arm. 

“Jesus, we’ve got ‘em! Murder One! We were right there, and they tried to stare us down. We have the knife, we have the coroner’s report, and I bet we could roll Sabo as a witness. Let’s bring her in!”

The prospect of solving this case soon and getting a good rest afterwards motivated Stefan, and he made his way back to the car, Cole closely following him. Although he was agitated, he still let Phelps drive back to the Pattisons. Wouldn’t be wise to have him behind any wheel today - not before he got some sleep anyways.

Not much later, they arrived at the house they had left only half an hour earlier. Cole’s knock on the door was even harder than before, both men wanting to finish this case and get some rest. 

Without a greeting, he started, “We’ve spoken to the coroner, Mrs. Pattison. He confirmed your husband’s cause of death. We’d like you to come Downtown with us and answer some questions.” 

While Stefan and his partner already stepped aside to make way for the widow, she turned around and looked back into the apartment before she confessed. “It wasn’t me. It was Leroy’s idea. Leroy stabbed him. I had nothing to do with it.”

The two detectives exchanged a frazzled look before Cole asked, “Where is Leroy now?”

“He’s in the bedroom...” Lorna Pattison said hesitantly as the person in question made his entrance. Leroy Sabo appeared in the doorway pointing a gun at Lorna, who turned around, and slowly backed away towards the two detectives.

“Put the gun down, Leroy,” Cole admonished Sabo while Stefan reached into his jacket for his own gun. He would not be shot on a doorstep after working his ass off the whole night. “If you do something stupid now, you don’t stand a chance in front of the grand jury.”

The two men were gesturing for Leroy Sabo to put down his weapon, all the while Lorna Pattison still stood before them right in the range of the bullets. Although she had killed her husband, she shouldn’t be shot down here. She should be brought to justice, Stefan thought, and eyed up Sabo. How likely was it that he would shoot her?

“Nice of you to give me up, sweetheart. All that whispering in my ear, telling me how we had to get rid of him, how good it could be, all the money we could claim… All that planning! How to get him into the street, how to make it look like an accident!” 

“For God’s sake Leroy, shut up!” Mrs. Pattison shouted, clearly upset. They made an odd couple, Stefan thought. They were both hotheads, shouting at each other, scared for their lives.

“You had all the bases covered, baby,” Sabo said while stepping even closer. Stefan’s fingers closed around his gun, and he could see Cole raising his hands, trying to calm the situation down.

Lorna Pattison turned around, looking at the detectives pleadingly, “I had nothing to do with it. He’s a crazy man, shoot him! Shoot him for God’s sake!”

“You think I’m gonna fry for you!?” Sabo asked, and just as Stefan pulled out his gun, Sabo fired a shot and Lorna Pattison collapsed right in front of them.

Stefan and Cole exchanged a glance before Cole took off, following Sabo, and Stefan kneeled down in front of Lorna, pressing his hands to the wound on her back but he already knew it was pointless. Her body was twitching beneath his fingers, painted red by blood that didn’t have to be shed - but it was too late. One final twitch in Lorna Pattison’s legs and she expired beneath him. 

Stefan stared at the body before he slowly got up. His right hand reached into his inside pocket, scrabbling about for a handkerchief but coming out empty-handed. 

For a second, he looked at his bloodied fingers, confused... but then he remembered Elsie Hawley and he had to step away from the body. While his thoughts raced, he looked at the body before forcing himself to take another breath. 

Carefully stepping over the body, he wiped his hand on his jacket - it was ruined anyways - before reaching for the telephone on the coffee table next to the sofa. 

“Operator, message for KGPL.” Stefan’s voice sounded hoarse and he cleared his throat before continuing, “Bekowsky, badge eight seventy-five. I need the coroner at 182 North Hope Street. And send a patrol around, too.” 

Just as he hung up, Cole reappeared, Sabo in tow, handcuffed. Cole was a bit out of breath but otherwise unharmed. The two detectives looked at each other before Cole glanced at the body on the ground and the puddle of blood that slowly spread over the wooden floor.

An hour later, he sat next to Cole, on their way back to Central Station, making their way through the afternoon traffic of Los Angeles. The man on the radio touted a new housing development, _Elysian Fields_ , and Stefan was having a hard time not falling asleep. 

He couldn’t wait to kick up his feet and get some rest. Paperwork could wait until tomorrow. All he really needed was some sleep now. 

As the next advertisement aired, Cole changed the radio station and the voice of Frank Sinatra filled the car. It was the middle of some cheesy song and Stefan crossed his arms on his chest, sighing deeply. He noticed how Cole’s fingers rhythmically tapped along to the song - so there was no chance he’d change the station again. 

Closing his eyes, he listened to the music, a touch too corny for his taste, but he noticed, surprisingly, that the lyrics were quite fitting for his situation (if one could call it a situation at all). 

_You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise, like a summer with a thousand Julys._

Yeah, he knew a girl with a smile like that. A sunshine like smile, warmer than any summer day in Los Angeles. 

_You intoxicate my soul with your eyes though I'm certain that this heart of mine hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance..._

Also very fitting. 

He could see her quite clearly when he closed his eyes. Dark brown curls, inquisitive gray eyes the colour of cigarette smoke, and a pouty mouth that gifted him a sunshiny smile. 

What a beautiful woman. A good, strong lady. A force to be reckoned with. 

So yes, whatever Sinatra was singing rang true today. He was sure there was nothing there between them (it was just a tiny crush that wouldn’t go away no matter what he did) and if it were something (which he doubted, it was likely the lack of sleep messing with him here), he wouldn’t stand a chance - she was simply too good for him. _Right, thanks for the cheer-up._

Just then, Cole parked the car in front of Central Station and the two detectives got out. What they didn't notice in their fatigue was a short woman walking towards them. 

“Detective Bekowsky?”

Hearing his name, he stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned around, hoping his ears had betrayed him here. But he wasn’t wrong. 

While he still wore his bloodied suit jacket, with Lorna Pattison’s blood still beneath his nails, and looking like shit from the lack of sleep and a day on the job, Elsie Hawley stood in front of the entrance to Central Station, looking like an angel. 

Her curls fell openly on her back, she wore a blue skirt, a white blouse and a pair of blue shoes (new ones?) Stefan wondered in awe. She looked at him, a tiny smile on her red lips. 

“Miss Hawley,” he said and tipped his hat, nearly missing the brim. "How can I help you?” 

“I wondered if you had a moment for me?” she asked and he smiled. It came easy to him, regardless of his lack of sleep. 

“Anytime, Miss Hawley,” he assured her before leading the way inside.


End file.
